Too Late, Ti Amo
by Lady Doitsu
Summary: Italy has a Christmas present for Germany, and Germany is too shocked to say anything. A year later, Germany has a reply, but is it too late? Angsty. Oneshot. A bit of JapanHungary mischeif. A few bad taste jokes, 'Cuz I can. GerIta. Summary is Blah. My first Hetalia Fic.


_**Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, we'd all be in trouble. **_

_**Read and review :D**_

**-*- Germany & Italy's House -*-**

"Ve~" Italy hummed cheerily, hopping into the lap of a rather flustered Germany. "Merry Christmas, Germany!"  
The German nation choked slightly on his beer as he placed the bottle back down on the coaster. Why was the Italian so persistent in jumping on, holding, clinging to or groping the German? He seemed so innocent of what it did to the Aryan.

Germany always missed the knowing glimmer in those golden eyes. Always.  
Blind Germany.

"M-Merry Christmas, Italien." He choked out, banging a fist against his chest to aid himself in regaining normal breathing patterns. "Would you get off me now?" A disjointed clicking noise sounded, but neither nation heard.

Ludwig's face reddened as the Italian bobbed happily on the German's lap, his trademark curl bouncing with him. He struggled to find the words to tell the Italian to get off now. He was speechless.  
Awkward Germany.

"Ve~ But I got Germany a Christmas present, don't you want it?" Italy's amber eyes bored into blue, his head cocked at a slight angle.  
"Of...Of course I do." Germany stuttered out, as a small package revealed itself from within the Italian's palm. A gloved hand reached out, but the Italian's fingers closed over the velvet surface quickly.  
"Uh, uh. Germany has to show me my present first!" Feliciano sing-songed, and Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose between two leather-clad fingers.  
"It...It's in my room." Germany managed to get out before Italy's weight left him and the brown-haired nation bounded up the stairs. The blonde got to his feet and followed the Italian.

"Come on, Germany! Ve~ I want to see my present!" Italy called down the steps. Germany allowed himself a small smile as he ascended the pine staircase of their two-storey house.  
"Coming Italien." He said, as he disappeared upstairs. From the adjacent wall to the stairs there was another clicking noise and outside the window, a rustling of bushes could be heard.

Nihon emerged from the greenery and poked his head above the sill of the window, closely followed by Elizabeta, who giggled.  
"Awww. They are so cute," She said. "Did you get them?"  
'Hai, Hungary-san." Nihon replied as the two retreated to the car parked across the street. He handed her the SD card from the camera with a quiet "Merry Christmas, Hungary-san". The female beamed at him. Within seconds of entering the vehicle they were gone, except for a small patch of water left from the air-conditioning system.

Japanese engineering at it's finest.

**-*- Upstairs -*-**

The German handed Italy a thin, rectangular package, wrapped in azure paper, the corners neat. As was expected of the stoic nation. Italy plopped down on the carpet and began attacking the paper with his own kind of ferocity. Wrapping paper flew about Germany's room, caught in drafts from the open window.

Germany and Italy had separate rooms, but that did not stop the smaller nation from crawling into Germany's bed at night, whether the excuse be that Italy's bed was too hard, or a bad dream had roused him and being alone frightened the cowardly Italy. The German would always roll over to a brown-haired Feli laying naked under his sheets.

Though, as much as the German acted like it bothered him, the Italian was never kicked off the mattress, nor carried back to his room. As sorely tempted as Ludwig was to do those exact things, he could not find it in his heart to hurt Feliciano. He would insist to anyone that challenged his resolve that he was not weak or soft and that if they insisted hat he was, there would be a rather unpleasant ending for that person. CoughPRUSSIAcough. Germany did have a soft spot for the Italian, though he would never admit it.

Feliciano's delighted "Veeeeee~!" Filled the room as he lifted the small, leather-bound book from what scraps remained of the wrapping paper. Germany paused in the act of picking up the litter and watched as Italy held the book to his chest and smiled brightly. That smile...It did...strange things to the German's heart rate. Not to mention his complexion and the light shade of pink he was turning.

"Germany got me a book!" Feli cheered. He flicked it to the first page where a small note was written.

_Feliciano,._

_This is a journal for you to write all of your thoughts_  
_and experiences in. You can write whatever you want in it._

_Merry Christmas,_  
_Ludwig._

"A journal." The German said, his reply cut short as the Italian threw his slender arms around Ludwig, who froze at his touch. He softened as Italy's warm breath flowed down his collar, bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin.

"Grazie!" Feli said, reaching over and taking the small velvet box from the blanket.

"Ve~ My turn to give Germany his present!"

Germany's breath came in short gasps as Italy slid down onto one knee.  
"Italien, Vas?" He stammered as the lid of the case was lifted to reveal a simple gold band. On the surface was carved an ornate **L&I.**

"Germany?" Italy looked up at him, emotion scorching in amber eyes. "Will you marry me? Ludwig?"

Germany was silent. He said nothing.

Germany should have said something.

Germany should have said yes.

**-*- One Year Later -*-**

Germany inhaled through his nose as he handed over a stack of money to the jeweler, who smiled falsely at him.  
"Merry Christmas to you, sir!" She said brightly, handing him a small box. Germany tentatively lifted the lid and inspected the ring. A replica to the one Italy had offered him a year ago. Pleased, but awkward, he closed the lid and slid the box into his pocket as he walked over to the florist and bought two de-thorned red roses. The flowers were a brilliant crimson, and were cut perfectly. He held them gently in his hand while he headed to the church.

Italy would meet him there.

**-*- At The Church -*-**

Germany walked through the gates, past row upon row of headstones until he reached a small fountain. He brushed the plaque atop a large white marble statue while glancing at his watch.

11:59am

He waited until the hands indicated midday then knelt down before the plaque. He prayed that Italy was watching now.

**_Feliciano Vargas_**

_Sadly taken from this world,_

_Nation, Friend, Lover_

_23rd November 2014._

One Month. Two days.  
One car, two lives.  
One pedestrian, one drunk driver.  
One nation, one person.  
100 miles per hour.

One hit was all it took.  
Not even the healing capabilities of being a nation could save him.

Ludwig lost everything the day he lost Italy.  
He lost himself.

As he placed the two roses on the smooth marble he opened the box and took out the ring. He took a great, shuddering breath, then slid the ring over the two stems, intertwining them within the gold band's hold.

He should have said yes.  
Now it was too late.

**-*- Epilogue -*-**

Germany hung his coat in the entrance way on its hook, trying to ignore the blue military coat next to it. He couldn't bring himself to move it. He couldn't bring himself to move anything of Feliciano's.

He couldn't let go.

He walked into the sitting room and lifted a small package from underneath the sparse Christmas tree. Hastily wrapped in paper, with Germany scrawled across the top.

The small Christmas tree sat in the corner, Italy having insisted that it be put up in early November. The smile on his face when the angel was put on the top, him balancing precariously on a chair, Germany standing beside him, arms out ready to catch him in case he-

No. That hurt. It hurt too much.

Italy prancing down the stairs, a small gift in his hands, insisting that it be put under the tree immediately.

No more.

Germany brought his hand to the side of his head, chest filling with cold emptiness. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he backed into the hearth, accidentally knocking over a picture of him and the brown-haired nation reading together, the Italian's finger pointing to the page, amber eyes on Germany, who regarded Italy with something just off interest.

The frame landed face down on the ground, the glass cracking and bouncing on the polished pine floor.

The tears in Germany's eyes broke the barrier and began to spill shamelessly down his cheeks as he lashed out at the remaining items on the hearth, a hand-crafted plate joined the glass, its ceramic shards spreading for a 2 meter radius. A painting done by Italy one autumn afternoon of Germany on his chair, fiddling with paperwork, his hair tousled an out of it's usual slicked-back style. The wooden frame splintered and broke through the canvas, straight through the chest of the drawn German.  
Oh, the irony.

Memories hit the wood and broke. Eventually, German's knees gave out and he joined the glass and canvas, uncaring of the sharp pains as glass cut his hands. His put his bleeding hands to his face as his body shook uncontrollably, Feliciano's gift still in one hand.

And still Germany tortured himself more. His shaking, crimson hands tore at the wrapping paper and abundance of tape to reveal the leather-bound book he had given Italy a year before. A little note fluttered to the floor, snagged by calloused fingers just before it contacted the pine.

_Germany._

_I decided to write down all of my thoughts in this book, just like you said!_  
_The I thought it would be a good idea for me to give it to you for Christmas, _  
_A new book to read!_  
_I really want you too look at the page in the middle. Elizabeta told me to do it! _  
_I think it was a really great idea!_

_Ti amo Germany, I can't wait to see what you got me!_  
_Feli._

Tears joined the pen on the paper, staining and spreading the ink. Germany opened the book to the middle page hastily.

In the center was a drawing of him and Italy sitting and sharing a bowl of pasta, but the marker in the book had something tied to it.

A gold band.  
**L&I.**

Underneath that was one small word.

Small, but big enough that it sent the stoic nation into a fresh wave of tears.

_Yes._

Wherever he may be, Italy and Germany were together, and would always remain.

_Ti Amo, Ludwig._

Germany cleared his throat thickly, then reached over to grab the picture frame, flipping it and running a finger over Italy's face.

"Ich liebe dich auch, Feliciano,"

"I'll see you soon, meine leibe."

**-*- Fin -*-**

_***dodges bullets* Okay, I'm sorry, but my plot bunnies are meanies and bash me until I write these things. I had to get it out. Flames are welcome, but only 'cause I know I deserve them. Entschuldigung.**_

_**Lady Doitsu.**_


End file.
